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Veronica Cole stood to leave. She handed Theo a card. “Let’s have lunch. There are a few things I’d like to discuss, if you’re available.”
Theo looked down at the embossed business card. Day Delos and Associates Management: Literary Agents. She remembered her last conversation with Dan. Oh, God…this was fraudulent, indecent. “Dan and I really weren’t… I mean, he didn’t think—”
“Call me. We’ll arrange a time, and I’ll book a table somewhere quiet. I’m sure Danny would have wanted us to get to know one another.”
CHAPTER 7
Caleb studied the biography of the writer. The photograph that accompanied it was arty, posed with the subject half turned away from the camera. You could only really tell that the guy had a beard and that he was old. Not ancient but old. He clicked through to the news reports of the murder. It fit. Dan Murdoch was killed on the day Primus made his last post. And he’d spoken about Stull—it made sense that Primus lived in Lawrence…or had lived in Lawrence. Murdoch was a writer…perhaps he’d discovered the Frankenstein Project while researching a book. A famous author would probably be able to get access to all sorts of things.
Caleb sat back, amazed and excited. He’d found him. He’d found Primus. Fucking awesome!
Now to break the news.
Theo lingered at Benders throughout the afternoon, with the people who had known Dan, who had known her and Dan. Most of them hadn’t known that he was a famous writer. They believed he, like Theo, was working on his first novel. She felt strangely proud, telling them of his books, the Edgar nominations, the bestsellers. Dan had been unassuming and private. She wanted him to be given his due. Already, she missed him.
Larry, the novelist from Aimee’s, and two members of the writing group that met at Alchemy also came to Benders. They delivered their commiserations to Theo, who accepted them with not a small degree of guilt. She and Dan had been lovers for a day; they had not talked of the future; there were no promises. She had no real right to be treated like a grieving widow. And yet everybody seemed determined to afford her that status, to prioritize her feelings over theirs. Perhaps her reluctance to accept the assumption that she bore the greater portion of grief was an attempt to keep that grief at bay.
She left at four, telling Laura that she had to get Horse back before dark. “You take care, Theo,” Laura said. “And you speak to that Veronica Cole about your book. Perhaps she was Dan’s parting gift to you.”
Theo smiled. “I don’t know if I’ll come in tomorrow… But I’ll see you soon.”
Outside the air was brisk. The leash remained slack in Theo’s hand as Horse allowed her to set the pace. She walked out thinking of Dan, of the day they’d made love, and the day he’d died. That was the only way she could explain what she did next. Why she walked back to the yellow house with the blue door.
The property was cordoned off with police tape. Two officers drank coffee in a cruiser parked on the street outside. Theo stood on the other side of the road. She was aware of her heart beating, the pulse pounding in her ears. She tried to take herself back to the evening before, to remember every detail of what she’d seen outside and inside Dan’s house.
Theo wasn’t the only person watching the house. A number of people stood in clusters behind the police tape—ordinary people, in jogging gear, business suits, a woman in yoga pants with a couple of kids. They took photographs and selfies, clutched at their throats for the camera. Some carried coffee or snacks. Almost every car that passed the address slowed as it rolled past until the police moved them on. Dan Murdoch’s home had, it seemed, become a tourist attraction.
A thickset man with blond dreadlocks decided that she need a tour guide. “Some dude got killed in there,” he said. “It’s a gen-u-wine crime scene.”
“I see.”
“Sorry, you probably already guessed that, seeing as the place is wrapped in that tape.” He shook his head. “They must go through miles of that stuff every year.”
Theo nodded vaguely, hoping that he’d stop talking and move away.
“If you ask me, it was a drug thing.”
Theo turned sharply. “Why do you say that?”
“Look at the garden. You’d have to be high to do that to a hedge. Check out the fuckin’ ducks!”
Despite herself, Theo smiled. She wondered if the police had spoken to Dan’s gardener. She remembered Dan had said he came twice a week. Perhaps he’d worked the day Dan had died. Perhaps he’d seen the man in the black car on some other occasion while he tortured Dan’s hedges into embarrassing shapes.
She excused herself before her new acquaintance settled too far into conversation. He asked if he could walk her somewhere. She declined politely and turned to move away.
“You sure?” He grabbed her arm. “Ain’t you scared? People are being murdered, for chrissake…”
Theo recoiled. “Don’t touch me.”
He held up his hands. They were dirty, like he’d just rubbed them in soil. “Just being friendly—lookin’ out for you.”
“Is this man bothering you, Miss?” One of the officers who’d been sitting in the cruiser had spotted the exchange and crossed the road to investigate.
Theo moved to stand beside the policewoman.
The man backed off. “I didn’t mean nothin’—just being friendly.”
The policewoman waited until he’d gone before she moved to return to the property. Theo thanked her.
